Whither Thou Goest
by PrinceHoggle
Summary: I kidnapped a Plot bunny from a website, spiffed it up and fed it a few solid meals. This may or may not be the beginning of a series. I asked myself- what could happen to Jim that he'd get fired but not Blair and I came up with this.


**Title**: Whither Thou Goest _(I find myself constantly trying to explain my titles. It's a bible quote from the Book of Ruth. Naomi (fits, nee?) says to Ruth, "for whither thou goest, I will go." King James.)_

**Author**: me

**Rating**: T

**Warnings**: none but mentions of Illegal Activity. Oh, and at this time, I've only watched the first season. So things might not be true-to-plot.

**Summery**: I kidnapped a Plot bunny from a website, spiffed it up and fed it a few solid meals. This may or may not be the beginning of a series. I asked myself- what could happen to Jim that he'd get fired (but not Blair) and I came up with this--

**Warnings**: No Beta. Pre Jim/Blair, off scene illegal activity

**Disclaimer**: 70 years after everyone dies, people can legally make money from this. At that time, I will probably still be the last person to take credit.

Gen- first-for-me fic. I hope that this is ok. The only beta I have is spell check… so, here we are. This may be a first, it may be a last. Dunno.

* * *

Blair Sandburg's life changed, again, on Thursday afternoon at a few minutes before four. You see, life for Blair was set, and, although he wasn't opposed to moving around, sometimes it was better just to stay put. So when Jim stalked out of Simon's office carrying a cardboard box and started packing up the few personal items he kept on and in his desk, Blair had a sense that life was off and moving- the same sense that Blair had gotten when Naomi had started going to the local Laundromat in bulk. Laundromats in bulk meant packing and packing meant leaving. So, with the thought of powdered soap and the smell of bleach, Blair cautiously made his way over to Jim's desk.

"Hey Jim, what's up?" Blair asked.

Blair wasn't really expecting an answer- usually Sentinels clammed up in tough situations. The urge for self-reliance Burton had said. So it was a bit of a surprise when an answer accompanied the expected glare. "I've been let go."

"What?" surely Blair had heard wrong. Simon would never have—

"I've been fired Chief. Effective immediately."

Blair's jaw dropped; he went preverbal. "Uh… wow… wow… why?"

"I'd rather not talk about it here."

Blair felt sick, like someone had grabbed and twisted the universe. And why? He thought. Being a detective had always been Jim's passion- no reason for Blair to feel like this… "Well, I guess I'll get my stuff."

As he dazedly turned, Jim grabbed Blair's arm; met his eyes. "Just me. Not you. You stay." Dizziness and chest pains were the first signs of emotional stress, Blair reminded himself.

"They want me to _stay_ and you to _go_? _I_ would stay… and _you_…"

"Will leave." He said with an authority Blair didn't quite understand.

And with that, Jim slammed the flimsy cardboard lid on the box containing all the things that an honest cop would have had on his desk and fled.

"Wait- wait! I don't even have a ride home!" Blair's brain felt like it was lagging way behind the train.

"I'll pick you up when your shift's over." Jim grunted. And that was the beginning of one of the strangest days in Blair Sandburg's life.

* * *

Jim drove in silence, but that had never meant that Blair rode in silence. "Man, Jim, this stuff is perfectly normal! My research shows that some tribes actually stoned their Sentinels to death. Really! There's a kinda creepy ritual that involves a tribe giving their Sentinels up to the gods by ritually slaughtering them, and actually, that ritual is used in other places- like Ireland when they killed their rulers. I should really check out if it's related, actually. But, come on, it's gonna be ok. I mean, Simon wouldn't have just ditched you for no reason- obviously there's some sort explanation, or plan even. I mean… " Blair was taking a deep breath to prepare for the next bout of worried rambling when Jim interrupted.

"I think the plan was catching me smuggling drugs, Blair."

And Blair's mind shorted out.

"What… wait, what?"

"Ribavirin." Medicine for Hepatitis C? What?

"Who for?" Blair asked incredulously. Blair checked his mental calendar. No, still not April 1st. and Jim didn't look like he was joking.

Jim looked incredulously at Blair for a second, then returned to glairing at the road. Jim obviously wasn't up to talking about it. And, oh man, what the fuck! Drug smuggling? Who the hell did Jim know who couldn't get Ribavirin on their own insurance? But then, there was always Peru. Wow, this was bad. Really ironic too.

"The Chopec?" And that's when they got home. The truck's door slammed open, then shut. Blair mechanically got out and followed Jim up to the loft. "Wow, Jim… wait a second, will ya? You didn't really, did you?"

"They're dying, Chief! What am I supposed to do?" And there it was. Jim was a Sentinel with morals; he couldn't _not_ help. Genetic imperative.

Blair wet his lips. Jim moved into the living room, threw open the closet, grabbed a suitcase, and Blair's mind had already relocated to some foreign universe because, was Jim packing? To _leave_? But then again maybe Cascade had never really been Jim's territory. Cascade was his home, of course, but it hadn't been where the Sentinel originated. Maybe Jim's loyalty had always been with the Chopec.

Blair had always thought that there was a difference- Sentinel training camp and Sentinel territory. Maybe Jim just knew that the Chopec would keep better then Cascade. He wondered if there was a way to test this… But no. Not important now. Blair was Jim's Guide, and that meant Blair went with his Sentinel. That meant that Blair was headed back to the Peruvian jungle. And that meant that Blair wanted to know what the hell all was going on.

"Is it an outbreak or just one person?" He said as he slipped past Jim to grab his own suitcase.

"Absolutely not, Sandburg. What part of '_you stay_' do you not understand?"

"Man- the part were you go off to the mother fucking jungle of major zone-outs without your Guide, God damn it!" Naomi would absolutely shudder to hear her son. Too bad. The situation called for expletives and Jim looked like he needed to hear them.

Jim glared for all he was worth, which was quite a lot in Blair's mind, growled out a "_remember what I said last time_," and took himself, his up-to-army-standards duffel, and his annoying crap stubbornness into his bedroom. Blair could hear him rifling around in his drawers.

"Hey man, could we stop at the Laundromat before we go?" Blair asked. He heard silence for a couple of seconds.

"Yeah Chief, why not."

* * *

There was one thing that confused Blair about this situation still. Well, actually, one of many, but one big thing.

"Hey Jim why weren't you arrested? You kinda did something really… well, unlawful." The Sentinel beside him had been staring out the window, apparently trying to see the ground through the thick cloud cover. That didn't look like it was working.

"I'm just under suspicion- Simon made sure it would stay that way," Ok, all bases covered. Blair had heard the terse conversation over the phone, leaving the loft and most of Jim's personal items to Steven. You didn't have to be a Sentinel to hear what Steven thought of the idea. Loud and clear, he had yelled, "_Did that punk ass hippie hype you up on something?_" And Jim had faithfully screamed back "_Keep your fucking mouth off him!_" and hung up. Territorial urges, Burton had written. Emotional bond towards the Sentinel's Guide fostering the feeling of safety. Nothing that meant anything too deep. Jim was just stressed out from loosing his job, having to relocate to another country, and it meant nothing that should make Blair's stomach twist like that. It was probably not something Blair should think too hard about. But Blair had never really paid attention to rules of probably-not-supposed-to-do. When Blair looked over a Jim, sitting like a jack-in-the-box, ready to spring out of the airplane seat though, Blair realized that the "emotional bond" and "genetic imperative" probably went both ways. And that there was more than just an empty trust that "promoted a sense of safety." Come on man, Blair was following Jim to another _continent_. The only people who Blair would follow out of _state_ were Naomi and Eli. What Blair felt for Jim was more than just some stupid platitude. And that's where Blair was fucked.

That's also when Blair took his stupid _head_ out of his fucking _ass_, and realized that his Sentinel was in pain. Jim was sitting there, head against the seat, sweating like a horse and his face— was that color green even possible in people who couldn't get Jim's range of senses? So, the next couple of minutes were spent saying stuff like "_dial it down buddy_," and "_Come on, man, everything's fine,"_ and "_hang on, I'm right here_," until Jim final dialed it down.

So all the way to New York, Jim and Blair were accompanied by stranger's stairs and whispers of "_bunch of weirdo hippie-fags_." Needless to say, Blair was glad to see the three-hour layover until Lan Airlines finally took them to Lima, Peru. Then they got on an old rinky-dink plain to Puno, hiked for what felt like months but was probably just a few days, and walked into Chopec territory.


End file.
